


Holiday in Handcuffs

by lovemuppet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Artist Castiel (Supernatural), Christmas, Dead John Winchester, Fake Relationship, Hunter Dean Winchester, M/M, Mild Kidnapping, They mean well but they're annoying family problems, a kidnapping that's not really a kidnapping, based off movie with the same name, hunter corp, interrupting moose, mild mentions of kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28226826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemuppet/pseuds/lovemuppet
Summary: In order to avoid telling his family the truth about his love life (or lack thereof) Castiel Novak kidnaps a handsome stranger (Dean Winchester) to take home for the holidays.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 29
Kudos: 130
Collections: Destiel LifeMark Bang





	Holiday in Handcuffs

**Author's Note:**

> Baby's First Bang! I want to thank My Beta NarwalsAreGreat, google for giving me a detailed list of the most ridiculous holiday movies and Mario Lopez for wearing a trenchcoat. 
> 
> go watch the original movie, it's a real stunner I swear~!
> 
> Merry Christmas, Happy Winter Holiday of Your Choosing, and Hopefully a happy new year!!

  
There was nothing in the refrigerator but a half-empty box of Mongolian Beef from the Chinese restaurant three blocks over. Castiel’s stomach growled and he tried to remember the last time he had gone grocery shopping. He couldn't. In any case, there was still the Mongolian Beef, and it was better than nothing. He’d have to eat it cold because he had nearly burned his apartment down trying to reheat his cup of coffee (with the spoon still inside) and so no longer owned a microwave. There hadn’t been time to beat himself up over it. Castiel had been working day and night for two weeks on a set of illustrations for a witch out in Boise and the last few nights had gone by in an especially inky blur. He finished around three that morning and promptly passed out at his desk.

His wallet was full again and, after the holiday, he could focus on the important things like buying food and microwaves and—he smelled his shirt, grimacing— bathing regularly. 

When he had polished off the Mongolian Beef, his phone rang out from the bedroom, cutting through the frigid air of the apartment. He padded over to it and groaned.

It was his older brother, Michael. 

“You’re still coming tonight, and you’re still bringing your boyfriend?” 

“Hello, Michael. Merry Christmas to you too.”

“Don’t be an ass. I’m just trying to get a headcount. I barely have time to talk. While I have you though, don’t forget about that interview today at Sandover. Zechariah agreed to see you as a favor to Dad.” 

_Hooray for Nepotism,_ Castiel thought morosely, sitting down on the bed and pulling a throw blanket over him to keep warm. He really needed someone to check on him when he was working. Everything but work would slip away and he found himself miserable when the work was over and he had weeks of personal neglect to make up for. It only took a week of laundry to make him beg his agent for more work. He could easily see why his father, a writer, was constantly working himself. In Castiel's opinion though, his father had more to make up for than a few missed showers or meals.

“Is Dad even going to be there this year?”

“Of course. He said he would be.”

“He said that last year too, didn’t he?”

“He got held up, Castiel. Just like _your boyfriend_ did last year.” 

To that, Castiel pointedly said nothing. There was no boyfriend. Two years ago, sick of their meddling and pity, he told his family that he had met someone. He begged off bringing this fake boyfriend to meet them that first year by saying that the relationship was still “so new”. Showing up alone last Christmas, Castiel blamed the weather. His invisa-lover had been conveniently snowed in at a work conference and couldn't make it out to the family cabin.

“Anyway,” Michael continued with a sigh, “Cocktails at six. And wear your blue sweater, I know this man likes you but it wouldn’t hurt to look your best when you can.” 

Castiel looked at the sweater, hanging among the few clean items left in his closet. Michael had given him three others just like it over the years. It brought out his eyes but made him feel like he was someone’s boring uncle. Rather than argue the point he simply grumbled, “Will do.”

With the faintest hint of sarcasm, Michael said, “Call me if anything ‘comes up’. Goodbye, Castiel.” 

Castiel started his shift at Crowley’s Diner frazzled and on edge. He didn’t technically work at the diner, just helped when they were short-staffed and needed someone to cover. Meg, the diner's manager and his closest friend, would give him a few shifts when he was between gigs. She had called him the day before and begged him to come in for a few hours around lunchtime. He didn’t need the money, but he figured that Meg didn’t need the stress of trying to cover a whole diner on her own two days before Christmas.

It was hot and the steam from the kitchen seemed to fill the whole diner with the smell of cooking brunch. He was going to meet his family smelling like food. _Add "smells like greasy bacon" to the list,_ he groused to himself. After the second rude exchange with a customer, Meg caught him by the elbow. 

“What’s got your feathers ruffled?”

He sighed, slumping into the contact slightly.“I was five minutes late for my interview at Sandover. I didn’t get the job.” 

She frowned. “Because you were late? I thought your dad was friends with one of the big bosses over there.” 

“He is. Apparently, nepotism only extends so far.” 

Meg wiped the counter in front of her as Castiel and put a fresh coffee in front of a regular. “But isn’t that, I don’t know, _ideal_? It’s not like you want to work a desk job anyway.” 

She was right. He hated the thought of working an office job. While his income would be more stable, a forty-hour or more workweek would leave zero time to work the commissions he enjoyed and even less time for his own projects. An artless life was difficult for him to imagine without making his fillings ache. 

He was doing _fine_ , and he had been doing fine for years now. Even if his family never seemed to believe it.

“It _is_ ideal," he agreed finally. "I’m _thrilled_ that I wasn’t extended the position, but I’m never going to hear the end of it.” He looked out over a dining room full of frantic shoppers and friends getting together one last time before the holidays. A little old man held up a cell phone and snapped a picture of him and his wife kissing in Santa hats. Seeing them, an overwhelming dread washed over Castiel. “I take that back, I might not hear about Sandover at all. There’s no way I’m going to find a plus one in time for Christmas with my family. That’s what I won’t hear the end of.” 

Helpless and desperate, he begged Meg, "Be my beard."

“Pardon?” 

“Beard. It’s a when-” 

“Castiel, baby, I _know_ what a beard is.” She took him in, brown eyes assessing, and her eyebrows rose suddenly at what she saw. “Wow, they’ve really got you worked up this year, don’t they?”

Castiel's eyes prickled in frustration. “I have nothing to offer these people. No partner, no grandchildren, I don't have a 'respectable' job or a degree. I’m going to have to listen to how boring and inept I am all weekend, trapped in a cottage in the middle of nowhere like...like that movie...God, what was it? I can’t remember.”

“Well, as much as I’d like to help you, I can't. I'm working all weekend. Crowley wants me here bright and early,” she said with a pointed glare at Crowley who smirked. He was the sort of person whose particular brand of torture only intensified the more he liked you. 

Castiel figured that it was just as well Meg couldn't be there. After all, he had been telling his family that his imaginary lover was a man and Meg wasn't. He had been vague, but not _that_ vague. 

Time marched steadily on. “I have two hours to either find a man who will fake being in a long-term relationship with me and spend his holiday with my family--” 

“--I’m sure there’s something you could find on Craigslist--” 

“-or run away. Have a minor accident. I can't visit my family if I'm traction.” 

Wiping down menus, Meg nodded to the drawer where her boss kept an ancient pistol. Crowley considered it insurance against nighttime burglaries, but neither Meg nor Castiel believed it would actually fire. Castiel doubted that the gun was even loaded. “You want me to take them out for you instead?”

He stared at the drawer longingly for a moment, then shook his head and said firmly, “A gun would just make more problems.”

“Spoilsport.” 

As the end of his shift drew closer, Castiel became increasingly uncomfortable. He wondered which of his recent mistakes, Sandover or Fake Boyfriend, would be the biggest disappointment to his family. He almost convinced himself once or twice that afternoon, that this holiday might pleasantly surprise him. That may be, except for Michael, no one would be surprised or disappointed and he would be able to enjoy his holiday. He knew better, though. Outside of Michael and Lucifer, his family was full of incurable romantics, flirts, and busybodies. Fake Boyfriend would dominate the conversation by a mile. The worst of it was that Castiel would have to dodge the attempts of a well-meaning family to play matchmaker between him and their Facebook friends. 

At a quarter to four, Michael called again. Meg told him to clock out and he loosened the apron strings and slipped the loop from around his neck before answering the phone. His brother asked without preamble, “Are you both on the road yet?” 

Castiel swallowed bile and took a deep, steadying breath. _Best to rip the band-aid off_. “About that Michael--” 

“My god, _what_ ? Did something ‘come up’ _again_ ? Castiel, what is going on? You’ve been with the man for two years now and he’s not once been able to come to _any_ of our family functions. I’m starting to think he doesn’t exist--” 

“He does!” Castiel blurted, kicking himself immediately. 

“--and if you aren’t seeing anyone seriously, I’m sure we could find you someone who can make time for you.”

He slammed his free hand down on the counter, making several patrons jump. Castiel mouthed an apology and began to shrug on his overcoat. “Michael, I’m capable of finding and maintaining my own relationships.”

It was then the door to the dinner opened. In from the busy, blustery cold walked one of the most handsome men he had ever seen. He was tall, built, and his sandy blond hair was complemented by a red flannel shirt, green pullover, and leather jacket. Castiel's mouth moved on its own. “I was just going to say we might run late is all. We’re on our way now. I have to go, goodbye Michael,” he didn't know why he said it. He doubted very much that a man _that_ beautiful would give him a second glance let alone a whole Christmas weekend.

 _But_ , his stress-addled brain supplied, _there are ways of **making** people free. _

In what he could only describe as a fit of insanity, Castiel reached into the drawer under the cash register and pulled out Crowley’s old gun. _Have I completely lost it?_ He almost put the gun back but the man chose that moment to get up and head towards the bathrooms. Panic crashed into Castiel at the sight of the man's retreating form and he followed with the gun in his hand. Seconds waiting outside the bathrooms at the back of the diner felt like years but after a small eternity, the man came out. 

His eyes were Castiel’s favorite shade of green. He would bet that he had spent over 50 dollars that year in that exact Prisma pencil. Mr. Green-eyes smiled a bright, Colgate smile that made Castiel's knees weak and, in a light but graveled voice, politely said “excuse me”. 

Castiel heard the gun in his hands cock, his voice came in a dark rumble, “Outside. Now.” 

The stranger’s beatific expression evaporated into confusion first and then, looking down at the weapon, slid into nothing more than a hard brow line and a slight tick of the mouth. 

But, the stranger complied. 

Castiel escorted him through the service entrance at the end of the small corridor and out in the parking lot to his car. _I_ **_have_ ** _lost it._ He opened the door to his Lincoln and said firmly. “Get in.” 

The man moved slowly towards the car and then, jerked suddenly, lunging for the gun. Surprised, Castiel pulled the trigger, and the shot whizzed past the man and through the dumpster behind them. “Fuck!” The man shouted. “You could have hit me! Give me that!” He lunged again for the gun but, being perhaps incredibly unlucky if recent events were anything to go by, slipped on some ice in the parking lot. Afraid that someone would be along shortly to figure out who shot a gun off in the middle of the day, Castiel tossed the old thing into a nearby snowbank. He then scooped the poor, unconscious stud up into his arms, buckled him safely in the passenger's seat, and sped off toward the mountains. 

Dean lurched awake, vision obscured by a soft blue scarf and hands bound to the “oh shit” bar by what felt like a good quality tie. Unable to remove the scarf, Dean used his other senses to take quick stock of his surroundings. He was speeding off towards the mountains in a complete junker. Sam was going to have the time of his life when he found out about all this. He ragged on Dean _constantly_ for falling for the honey pot _._

His head gave a little pang and he groaned. In that Black Velvet voice of his, the driver all but blurted, “I didn’t knock you out, you slipped on the ice.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

An awkward silence threatened to descend over the cabin of the car, but the guy hurried to fill it. “My name is Castiel Novak and I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend. For Christmas.”  
Dean snorted. "Yeah, not happening. What? You couldn’t get a date the old-fashioned way?”  
He heard the slide of fabric as the man shifted uncomfortably, “I uh. I haven’t had the time lately, no.”

To be fair, neither had Dean. Since his Dad died and he and his brother Sam had taken over the family business, his love life had been reduced to a series of bar pickups. Cas’s story suddenly seemed much more plausible. After all, the holidays made people do desperate things and Dean supposed that went double if the family was involved. “You couldn’t have asked first?” 

“Would you have said yes?” Cas said, almost amused.

Dean probably would have laughed, if he was being honest. When he noticed Cas nervously following him to the bathroom, he thought he was about to be in for a much different encounter. He had even taken his time washing his hands, _just in case_. If Cas had asked him, Dean probably would have turned him down, hoping for nothing more than a quickie in the men's room before he got on with his holiday. “Look, buddy, this doesn’t seem all that well thought out. I’m not mad. Just let me go and-” 

The car swerved a little, and Dean cursed at himself for rattling the driver. “No! I can’t. I’ve-I’ve already committed the kidnapping.” He heard Cas curse and then mutter distractedly, “Besides, If I let you out you could probably kill me with your bare hands.” 

“Thank you?” 

Being jostled about in the cabin had made the restraints a little tighter. Every time Dean pulled against the tie that kept his wrists in place, tingles shot up from them to the base of his skull and back down towards the arch of his feet. He racked his brain to think of something other than the thread count in the tie. In a gruff voice, he asked, “What did you say your name was again? It sounds familiar.”

“Castiel Novak.” 

“Oof. That's...” a mouthful that's what.

They pulled to a stop suddenly and Dean jerked toward the dash, saved only by the safety belt and the tie. He cursed as Cas cut the motor. “Yes, well, my father thinks he’s God,” he said with a sigh. “And so named all of his sons after angels. I’ve stopped at the gas station, do you want anything?” 

“Beef jerky and a pack of menthols.” He heard Cas shuffle, unsure, and rolled his eyes. “It’s a joke, Cas.” 

“Oh. Are you hungry though? I realize you didn’t actually have time to eat.” 

Dean’s stomach gave a tight gurgle “...I wouldn’t mind the jerky, now that you mention it.” 

“Of course.” 

Dean listened as the door to the junker closed quietly. When he heard Cas’s steps retreating and the whoosh of the gas station doors, he wiggled around, noticing that his body felt a little lighter, a little colder. He had left his coat behind on the table at the dinner. No coat meant no phone. He’d have to get his hands on one soon, otherwise, there would be 250 pounds of moose at the door of Cas’s family home. 

He heard footsteps approach the car, two sets, and Castiel’s panicked voice. “Oh! Uh! We’re going away for a long weekend. You know...” 

The Clerk told Cas to wait a minute, and the footsteps receded. Dean had always wished he could find someone who’s idea of a romantic weekend was a cabin in the mountains and light bondage and snorted at the irony.

“Shut up, it was the only thing I could think of!”

“I didn’t say anything, fifty shades.” 

The clerk’s footsteps advanced again, and he heard her say in a sweet-sounding, amused voice, “Here, I remember those weekends, you guys could probably use these.” 

Whatever she had given him, Castiel took it, thanking her and sounding almost touched. The clerk giggled and went about pumping the gas. While they waited for the tank to fill, she made small talk.

“How long have you two been together?”

Dean perked up, interested in the details of this fake relationship. “Two years,” Cas answered immediately. “Our anniversary was just a few days ago.”

“How sweet.” The clerk cooed. “And you both look so cute together! Have fun!” 

“Thank you, Nora.” 

Cas got back into the car. Dean might be imagining it, but the air around them seemed lighter, more relaxed. “I have something that’ll make your trip much more pleasant,” Castiel said earnestly.

“Jerky?”

“No, I thought a slice of pie would be more filling.” 

Suddenly Dean was glad that the scarf blindfold covered most of his face. This guy accidentally was hitting all Dean’s buttons, abduction aside...or shit maybe _included_? 

Castiel continued, “Nora was also kind enough to give me these.” 

Dean heard the shuffle of fabric and his arms slipped slowly into his lap. Castiel’s warm hands loosened the knots around his wrist too. 

Dean could have easily escaped. It wouldn’t be very much effort at all. But he didn’t _feel_ like he was in any danger and was incurably curious. He felt fuzz brush against the sensitive skin on his wrists and heard the familiar clicks of handcuffs as they clamped down securely. He was now very glad he hadn't moved. Heat pooled in his groin. 

“Now,” Cas said, sounding satisfied, “If you give me a second, I'll pull off and feed you this pie. I’d do it now, but we seem to have an audience.” 

_Oh fuck._ _If Cas started_ ** _feeding_** _him_ — “That’s okay, Cas, I know where my mouth is.”

Castiel seemed to hesitate, but put the pie in Dean’s lap and a fork in his hand. 

“If you’re sure.” 

Dean got the hang of feeding himself in only a few tries and, after a bite or so, spoke up. “Two years, huh?” 

“That’s what I told them,” Castiel said tightly. 

“What else did you tell them?” 

“Nothing much, I’ve been vague. Good job, independent, likes me.” 

“Two years and only _likes_ you?” 

“Yeah, well. You’re the first to find that odd,” Cas said. He sounded tired and a little sad. “But now that you’re here...you’re almost too attractive.” 

Dean snorted. 

“You don’t have a wedding ring. Or you do, but it’s on the wrong hand so you aren’t married,” he sounded relieved, like he just noticed and was thanking God for it. “Nevertheless,” he plowed on, “You’ve probably a wonderful woman or a loving family worried sick over you right now, but if you could just pretend to be gay for a weekend I’d appreciate it.” 

Dean bit his lip to keep from laughing at the assumption. “You have a habit of picking up straight guys? That could be why you don’t already have a boyfriend. Just saying” 

Castiel said nothing but grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “you’re preaching to the choir.” 

“So what about you? What was it that drew me to you in that little fantasy world of yours?” 

The stretch of silence was heartbreaking. “That’s a question for the ages. You can just make something up. It’s all equally unlikely.” 

“Can I say that I found you, captivating?” 

Castiel snorted and drawled in a voice that Dean thought sounded playful, “Not if you expect me to feed you at any point this weekend.” 

_There he goes again with the feeding thing._ Dean thought, swallowing hard. It was going to happen. Dean frankly insisted on it now. 

Both men left the other to his thoughts, and the car lapsed into a companionable silence. 

When they got to the cabin, Castiel parked and cut the motor. If he had been alone, he’d probably stay in his car for another half hour checking his email or else just staring at the cabin. But he wasn’t alone. Dean cleared his throat. “Everything okay, Cas?” 

“Yes. I just...” he trailed off, not sure of what to say. He loved Christmas, and he loved his family despite how difficult they were. But…

“I get it.” 

Castiel didn’t know if that was true, but hearing it made him relax a little.

He looked back at the house. They really were going to be holed up in there like— “Ah! The Shining! That was the movie!”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s not important. I’m going to take off the blindfold now,” He undid his seat belt and moved closer to Dean. He undid the scarf gingerly, nearly cursing as it fell away to green eyes and the bridge of a slightly freckled nose. This man was handcrafted by angels. Castiel worried his lip. No one was going to believe-

Dean rattled the chain between them. 

“Handcuffs?” 

Castiel shelved his doubts. His family wouldn’t believe it if he didn’t first believe it himself. For this to work, he needed to stop acting like the man was a stranger and start acting as he would in any other relationship. He caught Dean’s eyes and held them until he saw the other man shift under his gaze. He felt one eyebrow lift as he tried his best to project a confident, dominant air. The air of someone who had literally snatched a minor god out of the heavens to take him to dinner. 

“Are you going to go along with this and behave yourself?” 

Dean gave him a lopsided grin. “Don’t know about behaving myself. But I'm not gonna go anywhere. Besides lunch today, I didn’t exactly have plans for the holiday that I couldn’t heartlessly abandon.” 

Castiel frowned. “I can’t say this would be something I’d pick to do if I could have.” 

Dean shrugged but offered nothing more, so Cas undid the handcuffs. “I hope those weren’t too tight,” he said, fingers brushing along where the handcuffs had lightly bit into the flesh of Dean’s wrist. 

Dean coughed slightly and drew his hands away, “No, it was okay. Thanks.” 

"Where's your coat?” Castiel frowned. He realized that Dean had not been wearing his coat at all. He had set it on the chair back behind him when he took his seat at the diner. Guilt careened through him. “It's back at the diner." 

He shed his tan overcoat and handed it to Dean. Before he could protest Castiel said, "It's alright, I have another coat in the cabin." 

Dean shrugged it on, surprised by how much room there was inside. Castiel picked the scarf from where it had fallen onto the cabin floor. 

“Here Dean, your face is looking a bit flushed from the cold.” He wrapped the scarf around him and then nodded. “Shall we?” 

The walk from the car to the house along the snow-shoveled drive was a short one and Castiel hardly noticed the weather. It wasn’t as cold as his apartment had been. The small forest surrounding the cabin was quiet except for the occasional snap of a twig or the sound of snow sliding off overburdened branches. A little plume of smoke came from the chimney up ahead, mingling with the smell of the evergreens around them. For the first time that day, he really felt the Christmas spirit. He said as much to Dean, who commented that the cabin looked like “a goddamn Kinkade”. 

Before either of them could ring the doorbell, Castiel’s sister Hannah flung the door open and in a dark-haired blur, wrapped him tightly in her arms. 

“Castiel! You’re here! Michael’s driving me insane and I haven’t even been here an hour.” 

Pulling away, she caught sight of Dean and jolted in surprise. “Oh, he’s real!” She looked more carefully at her brother and with a smirk said, “That would explain the pornstar hair, I guess.” 

“Porn star hair?” Castiel repeated, astonished. At twenty-five, Hannah was ten years Castiel’s junior and still too young to be talking openly with him about pornography.

“Dean Winchester,” Dean said, cutting over top to introduce himself. “I’m very real.” 

That much was true. Castiel chuckled, releasing some tension. Hannah shook Dean’s hand and stepped aside to let them both in. 

“Castiel?” Michael called from the kitchen. “You’re late.” 

When Castiel hesitated, Dean pushed him forward, muttering, "Com'mon Sunshine." 

In the kitchen, Michael, Anna, and Lucifer were sipping drinks and making dinner. Well, Michael was making dinner, Anna was mostly watching, and Lucifer was lounging at the table. Dean said in his firm but friendly manner, “It was my fault. I was meeting my brother for lunch and things got away from me.” 

“You do exist,” Anna said, putting her glass down. 

Dean frowned, perplexed. “Did you really think I didn’t?” 

“Well, you’re the first... friend Cassie’s ever brought home.”

“What? Really?” Castiel turned to help Dean out of his coat to hide the faint tint of embarrassment. “Guess I must just be special. Huh, Cas?” 

“Alright, I don’t buy it,” Lucifer said, folding his arms. “What did he have to do? Kidnap you?” 

“Absolutely,” Dean said. Castiel froze as Dean shrugged the rest of the way out of his overcoat. 

“He kidnapped a complete stranger to take to Christmas armed with nothing but a pair of fuzzy handcuffs.” 

It was quiet and for a heart-stopping second, Castiel thought the cat was out of the bag. But Dean winked a fraction of a second before laughter erupted from the rest of the group. 

The door behind them opened and a distinctly British voice called from the foyer, “Hello, I’ve let myself in, I hope that’s alright.” 

“We’re in the kitchen, Bal,” called Anna with a giggle and wink at Dean. Castiel sighed. His sister Anna was a year older than him and lived in the same city. Before things started to pick up with his work, they used to hang out together at the same clubs and parties. Anna had an unpleasant habit of taking home whoever it was Castiel showed up with, be they clients, coworkers, or friends. He hoped she would rein it in since technically Dean wasn’t on the market, but that would have been a Christmas miracle. 

Castiel’s cousin Balthazar crowded into the kitchen behind Dean and Castiel. “Was that laughter I heard just now? From this family? What’s so funny? Did Grandma die?” He stopped when he noticed Dean, his smile widening. 

“Well, hello handsome,”

Balthazar and Anna shared much of the same afflictions. Castiel couldn’t blame them for good taste. 

“This is Castiel’s **_boyfriend_ **,” Hannah said as an introduction. “Dean Winchester, this is our cousin, Balthazar.” 

Dean held out his hand to shake, and Balthazar took it warmly. 

“Dean says Castiel kidnapped him and brought him here in fuzzy handcuffs,” Anna teased. 

“Little Cassie has furry handcuffs?” Balthazar laughed. “I think I’d sooner believe in Santa Claus.” 

The room tittered quietly and Castiel sighed. He supposed he should be thankful that people found him boring. He literally kidnapped a man today, and nobody believed it because the story involved fuzzy handcuffs. He was starting to think he could get away with murder and the consensus would be “Oh, not Castiel! He’s far too boring to kill anyone.” 

The longer the evening went on, the more Dean felt for Cas. The Novak family was under the impression that their brother, the man who kidnapped him, was straight-laced, prudish, and boring. If he was, Dean certainly hadn’t seen that side of him yet. Or maybe he _was_ seeing it. Cas was much quieter now and, besides a steadying glance at Dean every so often, he seemed lost in his own thoughts. 

He had missed an interview at some company that morning and the older brother, Michael, treated it as though it were the end of the world. Cas, for his part, tried to tell Michael that he didn’t really want the job in the first place. To which the brother told him the job would “play to his strengths”. Cas looked like he had swallowed a golf ball. “Wouldn’t you like a simple, low-stakes, office job? You’d have the weekends off for your doodling--”

“Illustrating, Michael, I illustrate for people,” Castiel said with a sudden flash of lightning in his eyes. _An illustrator, huh? That doesn’t sound boring at all._ He wasn’t sure exactly what kind of illustrations Cas did but Dean liked cartoons and comic books. Sam teased him about it now that he was pushing thirty but it was a little amazing to meet someone good enough to make a living off their art. 

Dean watched Castiel’s hands. His dad always said that you could tell what a man did for a living by watching the way his hands moved. Dean knew his own moved quickly, staying slightly curved in case he needed a fist. His hands were weapons. Cas’s hands moved gracefully over the utensils on the table. You could almost see ink spill from the tips like a pen over paper when they moved along the table cloth. Dean wasn’t very poetic, but the point was that Cas had good hands.

“So how did you and Cassie meet, Dean?” Anna said over her Moscow Mule. “He never told us the story.” 

Castiel shook out of his thoughts and looked alarmed. “I-” 

“I didn’t ask you, I asked Dean. You’ll just give us the short version and I’m in the mood for a story that isn’t about ‘what a bitch my ex-wife is’,” She looked pointedly at Michael and Lucifer and then regarded Dean with a coy smile.

“Let’s hear it, Dean.” 

Dean didn’t know what kind of story they’d like to hear, or what they would believe about their brother. But if in two years Cas’s family hadn’t managed to get a story out of him, he’d give them one now. “I was in town on business--”

“What _do_ you do?” asked Michael. 

Anna shushed him and then motioned for Dean to continue. 

“Yeah well, I got hungry. And so I stopped at the diner that Cas works at,” remembering his first impression, he added sheepishly. “Or, uh. I saw him inside and decided that was where I wanted to have lunch.”

“You did?” Castiel asked, tilting his head. 

“Mhm. You pulled off your apron and answered the phone like some hot secretary.” 

At this, Castiel blushed suddenly and deeply. Dean fought the urge to laugh. 

“I had no idea. I thought it was just bad luck on your part,” 

Dean laughed heartily. “Of course not,” he barked, “I’m one of the luckiest sons-a-bitches in the whole country.” Cas opened and closed his mouth, but when he didn’t argue, Dean continued. “So anyway, I musta been standin’ out there a while. I open the door to let some lady and her kid come in and I hear this loud ‘WHAM’! Whoever it was on the phone, Cas, musta made you _mad_ ,” Dean teased. 

Castiel was now looking everywhere but at the head of the table where Michael sat. Dean got the picture. 

“So _that’s_ when I was all ‘Oh I’m going in _there_.’”

Castiel snorted. “Because I was angry?” 

“Absolutely. So I get in there, get seated, and guess who my server is?” 

“Cassie,” answered Hannah, eyes twinkling. 

“Yup. And he was still all shook up about whoever was on the phone because he stormed over, clothes, hair everything just a mess. And he’s got this scowl on when he asked me what I 'would like'. And I thought I’d be smooth, knock him out of his bad mood at least, and so I said, ‘You. When do you get off?’” Cas’s siblings chuckled. 

“Oh my god!" Anna gasped. "You didn’t.”

“He did,” Castiel said nodding. “And so, as bad a mood as I was in, I lost all sense of professionalism and answered, ‘Whenever I can.’” 

Lucifer almost spat out his drink, Michael looked scandalized.

“Yup.” Dean brushed away tears of laughter. “This one’s got a mouth on him when you wind 'em up. So then we went back to his place and the rest is history. Sweetheart, pass the butter.” 

“Of course.” The looks of shock and disbelief from the rest of the table warmed Dean’s heart just a little bit. 

After dinner, Cas took Dean upstairs to show him to their room. “You can pick where you’d like to sleep, Dean. I don’t have a preference. It’s been a long day.” 

“You’re telling me.” Even though his hands were starting to sweat like a fifteen-year-old at a junior prom, Dean managed to toss Cas a flirty smile. “You know, I don’t mind sharing, Cas.” 

Castiel tilted his head in a way that Dean couldn’t help but find endearing. “I don’t think that’ll be possible.” 

The rejection stung a little if he was being honest. Sharing a bed wasn’t something he considered _inherently_ sexual and Cas seemed to think he was straight anyway. He didn’t understand why it would be a problem. Cas opened the door and Dean peaked inside. A chuckle escaped him before he could help it. “Oh, that’s why.” 

The only bed in the room was a bunk bed.

“I usually have to share with my brother, Gabriel,” Castiel said, moving to set down his duffle bag. “He’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Is he like the others?” Dean asked, leaning against the door as it closed. 

Castiel opened the closet to hang up his things. 

“No. Yes? He’s annoying, but he practically raised me. Lucifer and Micheal were always fighting for our father's attention. When mom died, Gabriel kept his eye on the rest of us.” 

“He a super patient artist type too?” Dean said, coming over to look into the suitcase. 

There didn’t seem to be enough clothes for two people. It really wasn’t a premeditated kidnapping. Cas looked up at him curiously, blue eyes almost black by the dim light in the room. His aftershave was heady. His plush lips were parted and his hooded eyes were nearly closed. Dean had never wanted a kiss more in his life. He leaned in, savoring the slow drag of movement, heart pounding in the tips of his lips. 

Someone pounded on the door and threw a bucket of cold water over the moment. 

“Goodnight, Cassandra,” Lucifer sing-songed with a laugh.

Castiel sighed, turning his head away. “Let me get some clothes you can borrow.” 

The reality of what all had happened the day before hit Castiel like a freight train in the early hours of the morning. He had kidnapped someone. He kidnapped someone because he was afraid of being called out for lying to his family. Panic swelled and he jumped out of bed to steal downstairs and use the phone. He needed to confide in someone, needed to admit what he did, and receive safe criticism. Out of his family, Castiel only trusted Gabriel to lay things out for him. But the last person he'd want to disappoint with the truth or worry was Gabriel. He needed to call Meg. 

Castiel dialed her number, counting the rings and looking out the large living room windows that overlooked the small, frozen-over pond. Meg's sultry voice cut through the quiet of the cabin. “Look who’s calling back. You’re lucky you still have a job.” 

Castiel blinked. “I do?” 

Meg laughed, the echo bouncing around up by the vaulted ceiling. “Yeah, Clarence, you do. Crowley was tickled to death that you finally snapped.” Castiel let out a relieved little chuckle as Meg continued, “The guy's brother was in here earlier. He’s kind of cute, like a charming skyscraper. You really stepped in it didn’t you?” 

“Yeah. I think I did.” Castiel said, scrubbing his face with his free hand. 

“Cas, you’re going to have to come clean, eventually,” Meg said simply. “You can’t ‘keep him forever’, he’s not a puppy.” 

“I know. I’ll figure it out, find some way to get him out of here.” 

There was silence on the line and Meg asked seriously, “Do you think this guy’ll press charges?” 

Castiel shrugged even though she couldn’t see it. The phone felt heavy in his hand.

“I don't know. He seems at ease enough but there’s always the possibility that he might. I’ll have to deal with it then, I suppose.” 

“Hang in there, Angel.”

He hung up the phone and tapped his lips with it gently. 

A voice from behind him spoke quietly, “'Angel'?” 

He had been heard! By who? Cas whipped around to find Dean with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I remember you said you were named after an angel. ‘Fraid I haven't heard of Castiel. "

Castiel didn't meet his eyes. “I’m named after the angel of Thursday,” He held out the phone. “Your brother’s looking for you.”

Dean took the phone and gave Cas a long look before turning his attention to it. 

“I’ll get to Sammy in a minute.” 

He seemed to look for something. Opening and closing things at random. Typing something else. Then his face lit up, and he grinned impishly. Castiel let him. There was nothing particularly embarrassing on his phone and it had been weeks (maybe months) since he had done anything salacious. 

But Dean surprised him by grinning wide and declaring, “Bingo!” 

“What?” 

“I found your dating apps.” 

_Oh!_ Castiel blanched and reached for the phone.

“Oh, no!” Dean said, holding the phone away from him “I’m going to see what embarrassing things you put in your profile…” he skimmed the screen “Castiel _James_ Novak, thirty-five. Oh! An older man. Well, aren’t I lucky?”

Castiel lept for the phone.

“Dean!” 

“No dice, Cas! I was a mechanic for years. I’ve never dropped a wrench and I’m sure as hell not gonna fumble this phone.” 

“Well _I_ ,” Cas grunted and shoulder-checked Dean, sending him scrambling over the back of the couch— “was on the football team in high school.” Castiel took advantage of the dazed look on Dean's face to steal back the phone. “They called me the ‘rogue’.” 

Dean looked up at him, eyes twinkling. 

“That makes me gambit?” 

“I don’t understand that reference.” 

“Well, Cas, you see--” Dean leaped up off the couch and lunged for the phone. A good old-fashioned chase ensued and ended in Dean and Cas grappling in the foyer, locked together in a stalemate on the floor, grunting and giggling. 

“Give it to me or so help me, Dean Winchester--” Castiel panted. 

Dean’s eyes jerked to meet his, mouth hanging open and a small blush forming across his cheeks. It was a sweet look on him. His gaze flicked down Castiel’s lips, doubling his pulse. This was the second time he had caught him looking at his mouth and he wondered what it had meant. 

Dean opened his mouth to speak when the front door crashed open. 

“GOOD MORNING VIETNAM!” Gabriel shouted into the otherwise quiet cabin. “I hate coming out here, I'm freezing my balls off in all this snow.” He looked down and grinned. “Well hey Cassie, whatcha got there? The old ball and chain?” 

Castiel froze, suddenly aware of what it looked like they were doing on the floor. But, damn it, he was Castiel _James_ Novak. For once, he leaned into his boring image and said primly, “Gabriel, this is Dean. Dean, this is my brother Gabriel.”

“Hey!” Dean said playfully. “I’d shake, but if I let go, I’ll lose.” 

“Fair enough,” Gabriel said with a wriggle of his eyebrows. “Something tells me if you’re having any fun, everyone else must all still be asleep.” Dean snorted. 

Castiel patted Dean’s arm, an unconscious signal to let him know that their game would have to be picked up later. Dean nodded and let go of the phone. 

As they untangled themselves, Castiel answered his brother, “I think they must be. We haven’t run into them yet. Do you need help with anything, Gabriel?” 

“Not yet. In a bit, I'm gonna wanna go to the gas station. I forgot Balthazar was coming this year and between him and Anna, I'm not sure I brought enough booze.” 

Castiel turned to Dean. “Can I trust you to call your brother and not go snooping through my phone?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

Cas quirked his eyebrow and said in a firm voice.“I mean it. Call Sam.” 

Dean rolled his eyes.“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” 

He took the phone and stepped out of the house. Gabriel looked like the cat who got the cream. ”What?”

“Love looks good on you, nerd.” 

Dean tried calling Sam, but he didn’t answer. He left a message on a few of his phones and then called Bobby. 

The man’s gruff voice rolled through the speakers with a bleary sounding “Hello.” 

“Bobby, it’s me.” 

“Dean? Where the hell are you? Sam called me in a panic yesterday saying you didn’t show up for lunch.” 

Dean sucked air through his teeth, bracing himself for a lecture.“That’s because I sort of got kidnapped.” 

“What in the hell--” 

He cut in quickly, “not a what, a who. Some guy with a shitty family kidnapped me to pretend to be his boyfriend.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I think I’ve seen that Hallmark movie.” Dean chuckled, Bobby knew better than to doubt one of Dean’s wild stories so he asked gently,“You okay?” 

“Yeah. Look, I don’t want Sam raisin’ the alarm but he’s not answerin’ me. If he calls you back do you think you can tell him I’m okay?”

“What do you want me to say you’re doing?” 

Dean looked back at the house where he could see Cas laughing a deep, belly-laugh in the kitchen. 

“Saving people, hunting things,” he enthused. “Just tell him I'll be back at the hotel before Christmas is over.” 

“Alright. Merry Christmas, Dean.” 

“You too, Bobby.”

Dean stepped back inside from the cold and walked back into the kitchen where, by now, more of Cas’s family had assembled. Cas's smile was diminished a little but his eyes were bright as he turned away from Gabriel to look at him. It made Dean feel a bit breathless, like he was the most important person in the room. “Did you get in touch with your brother?” 

“No, he’s not answering. I called my uncle and told him to pass along a message,” he looked at Cas seriously. “We were still going to go visit him after Christmas dinner right?” 

Castiel blinked and looked so damn relieved he could cry. “Yes! Yes. That was the plan.” 

“Then I’ll see that big girl later.” 

A bright, gummy grin spread over Castiel’s face. Which of course meant that someone was going to ruin it. 

Michael chuckled, “I’m glad you’re socializing Castiel a bit, Dean. When he was a kid he was terrible at making friends” Castiel's face fell and Dean could have flipped the table. 

Lucifer snorted into his coffee. “We had to pay the little kid down the street to play with him.” 

“He gave the money back,” Michael said almost fondly. 

Gabriel put down the spoon he was using for the hot chocolate with a firm clack. 

“That’s because _most people_ would feel weird about accepting money in exchange for friendship.” 

“Uh-oh Mikey, we poked mama bear.” Lucifer taunted. 

“Hey speaking of people that had no business being parents -- Is our progenitor showing up this year or am I putting the ‘world's best dad’ trophy back up in the closet?” Michael and Lucifer wore matching scowls. “Well, I could use a drink. Of course, there’s nothing in the house with you party animals around. Deano, drive me to the gas station?” 

Dean nodded. “Sure.” He turned to Cas. “You want anything while I’m out?” 

Cas looked at his brothers for another second before leaning in to say, “Jerky?” 

Dean tried to tamp down a big, goofy grin. “How bout pie? I hear it’s more filling.” 

Cas bit his lip to keep the joke to themselves. “Thank you, Dean.” 

“You got it, Angel-face.”

When he and Gabriel got to the car, Gabriel didn’t turn it on right away. He instead looked at Dean. 

“Spill. I know the truth. Castiel never actually had anybody.” 

“How did--” 

“Flew him out to Vegas to hang with me for his birthday and got him blackout drunk. That kid’s a real wild man underneath that tax accountant get-up.” Gabriel turned on the car. “Now, I know they’re gonna make you retell the whole ‘the story of how you two met’ if our dad decides to grace us with his presence. I’ll enjoy listening to you both lie through your teeth more if I knew what _actually_ happened.” 

Dean couldn’t argue with that logic. So he told him, doing his best to paint Cas in the best possible light. By the time he finished, they were at the store. Gabriel whistled. “Well, thanks for sticking around for the circus, kid. Cas got really lucky.” Dean reached for the door handle but the lock whirred. Dean looked over at Gabriel questioningly and found him as fierce as an archangel. 

“If you hurt my brother, I’ll kill you and make it look like an embarrassing accident.” 

“I hear you loud and clear.” Dean didn’t doubt that that compact body hid some kind of deadly skill. 

“Then you have my blessing,” Gabriel said getting out of the car. 

“Your blessing?” Dean said, following suit. “What do you mean your ‘blessing’?” 

“Please, you guys make more eyes at each other than an angel in Revelations. It’s up to you, but if you wanted to ask him out on a proper date whenever this charade of his is over, be my guest.” He smiled brightly and Dean found it to be a curious mix of frightening and friendly. “ _My blessing_ is the only one that matters.” 

Castiel’s exasperated voice from the living room. ”Being a Democrat is not a _cause_ , Michael!” 

Gabriel hung his head dramatically. 

“Go save him.” 

When Dean entered the room Castiel was immediately relieved to see him. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

Dean handed Cas the small black gas station bag. “Got your pie, Nora threatened to sneak in a few 'extras' but I told her we had it covered.” 

Castiel’s whole face softened into a warm blush. “Thank you.” 

Michael cleared his throat, “Dean Winchester, I’d like you to meet our father, Chuck Novak.”

Castiel’s father was pretty much how Dean had imagined he would be -- short, bearded, and all the smugness of God. He stood to full height and held out his hand to shake. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Sir.” 

Chuck shook his hand enthusiastically. His grin wasn’t much more than a nervous tick. Then his facial features smoothed unsettlingly. “Wait, Winchester? Are you related to John Winchester?” 

Dean stilled, frowning. “Yeah. He was my dad.” 

Chuck clapped his hands together. “Hunter Corp! Yes! Their ads run constantly in the truck stops and motels.” 

Most people had heard about Hunter Corp, the monster elimination company. Sam had made sure of that, now that Dad was gone. Under Sam, the company found more structure and hunters were safer working for Hunter Corp than they had ever been on their own. It was something that their dad could have benefitted from. Dean’s whole body felt stiff. 

“Most of our customer base are people who travel for a living. They’re usually alone and more at risk. Suburban folks don’t like thinking about ghosts and stuff unless they need ’em gone.” 

“Cassie had an imaginary friend growing up.” Hannah piped up. She had a drink in her hand and looked worn out from spending the morning with her family. “Do those exist?” 

“Yeah, they’re harmless. My brother had one too.” 

“Really?” Castiel asked. “You never told me that.” 

Dean sat down next to Cas and put his arm around him. “Haven’t had to embarrass Sam much lately; he does that on his own.” Castiel rolled his eyes. 

The conversation shifted to other things and people, but Dean and Cas hardly noticed, content to sit in their two-person bubble. 

After dinner, Dean and Cas were sat down by Gabriel in a quiet part of the house away from everyone to ‘write letters to Santa with some brandy eggnog and a large plate of Hannah’s stress baked cookies’ to which Dean was more than happy to help himself. Writing letters to Santa was perhaps Castiel’s least favorite exercise, and he really didn’t understand why they were still doing it now. The youngest family member here was twenty-five. He put the same things down that he put every year and looked out the window. 

”You know, Cas, a federal offense probably puts you on the naughty list.” Dean said with a teasing smirk. Castiel snorted. “Whatdchu you put?” 

“World peace, end to hunger, health, and safety for all.” 

“Yeah right, Ms. America.” 

“Well, what did you put?” 

“Porky’s 2 on blu ray,” Dean said proudly. 

Castiel tilted his head in consideration, “Something superficial? I didn’t expect that from you.”

Dean scoffed, “I’m a simple man, Cas.” 

“I’m not sure that means what you think it means, Dean. There isn’t anything simple about you that I can see. ” 

Dean grunted and snatched the Christmas list from his hand and Castiel went back to looking out the window, happy to be rid of it. 

“‘Be less boring’” Dean frowned and looked front and back. Castiel could see in the reflection of the window the slump of Dean’s shoulders and the concern for him it belied. 

He did his best to wave it away. “It’s the same thing I write every year. Don’t read too much into it.” They shared a companionable silence before Cas asked, “What was your best Christmas?”

“Couple years ago, Sam and I got snowed in at some ski lodge. It was nice. It's been a long time since I've had a quiet Christmas.” Castiel hummed. “What about you?”

“I think I was about seven. It was the biggest Novak Christmas on record. Sixty-three of us were here.” Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not kidding, twenty-three kids to play with. We all made snow angels in the yard. I got this big idea to make an igloo and we packed into it like sardines. I don’t think I’ve been ‘interesting’ since.”

Dean nudged him “I think you are, Cas. And so does Gabriel. And the girl you were on the phone with earlier.” 

Castiel cocked his head to the side. “Who, Meg? I’m not sure if she finds me interesting because I _do_ anything, but interesting that I _don’t_. She hangs with a pretty wild crowd. But you’re right she’s my best friend, I’m sure she--” he paused and then searched the easy smile on Dean’s face. 

“You find me interesting?” 

Dean laughed at him. “Well yeah, Cas. I’m a hunter, a good one. And you’ve got the drop on me a few times and we’ve only known each other for, what, a day? That’s not just interesting, that’s downright impressive.” 

Castiel blamed the warmth that spread through him on the brandy he had hardly touched. “This morning, you led me to believe you were a mechanic.” 

“I was! Before Hunter Corp, I needed a day job, Cas. Quarterly reports and office space are all new things. I kinda hate them, to be honest. Don’t even get me started on Company Parties.” 

Dean scrubbed his face with his hands, “I’m glad I’m missing it.” 

“Glad I could be of some use to you after all.” 

It was getting late and there was one cookie left on the plate. Castiel picked it up. “Here,” he said, holding it out in front of Dean who looked at it, wide-eyed and curious. “Open.” He didn’t break eye contact as Castiel placed the cookie gingerly in his mouth. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut as he bit down with a soft sigh. Castiel resisted the urge to run his thumb over the slight blush the brandy had created over Dean’s cheeks. He pulled the cookie back and handed it to Dean. 

“Goodnight, Dean. Enjoy your cookie.”

Christmas morning was a whirlwind of activity for everyone but “the love birds”. That was partially Gabriel’s doing but, after Dean’s occupation became known, the rest of the family agreed that the “important guest” should be shown a good time. They had even gone so far as to clear Dean’s breakfast plate for him. He tried to argue, but Anna booped him gently on the nose. 

“Let us get it, handsome.” 

Castiel couldn’t help a small twinge of jealousy. Dean wasn’t really his boyfriend, sure, but Anna didn’t know that. _They should be pushing her to settle down, not me._ When he looked up, Dean’s green eyes were swimming in silent laughter. 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Were you jealous Anna cleared the table before you could?” 

Castiel’s mouth hung open, and he fought back a blush. 

“No, you ass.” 

“Why do you look like someone poured salt in your oatmeal then?” 

“Maybe that is exactly what happened.” Castiel retorted, loading another spoonful. 

Dean snagged the spoon and put it in his mouth. He pulled off slowly and, with a faint hum and a downright roguish smirk, he said, “Nope, it’s not the oatmeal.” 

“Your table manners are appalling.”

“Yeah yeah, teach me what fork to use, Mr. Novak,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. 

Castiel tilted his head to the side. “ _Mr. Novak_?”

Dean opened his mouth to say something but must have thought better of it and stumbled over himself slightly as he said, “I- uh, Let’s finish up. I saw some hockey equipment out by the pond. 

“Are you in a hurry to lose?” Castiel asked, standing to rinse his bowl. 

Dean barked out a laugh, “Oh! You’re on!” 

They went outside, “I’m a formidable opponent, Dean. This was only an intimate gathering. Like I told you last night, I have cousins in the double digits.” 

“Well, I have to go one on one with Sam. Kid’s a giant.” 

As they started playing, it was clear that they were both well matched. Or would be if Castiel didn’t keep falling on his butt. He hadn’t brought his good pair and the ones he had left behind, with his name written on the tongue in sharpie, were much too small. Also, ice skating was nothing like riding a bicycle. The body forgets. 

Castiel, though, stood back up every time he fell over. 

“You’re pretty scrappy, Cas,” Dean said, leaning on his stick to catch his breath.

“Thanks.” 

“You weren’t joking about the football thing were you?” Castiel shook his head. 

He hadn’t been some major sports star but being on a team helped him stay out of his shell in high school and kept him active. 

“Anyway, much more athletic than I thought an artist would be.” Dean put his stick behind his head and slung booth arms over it as a child might. “What kind of art do you do?” 

“Religious art mostly and the supernatural. I’ve been commissioned by a few cryptozoologists and one very excitable witch to do textbook illustrations.” 

“You don’t say?” Dean said thoughtfully. “Any chance you’d show me? I’m pretty good with that stuff.” 

“Alright,” Castiel said with a nod. “I have it on my phone. Let’s go inside and warm ourselves a bit.” he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. They had been having a good time and Castiel thought it was the right time to clear the air completely. 

“Wait. I- I want to apologize for kidnapping you.” 

“Cas--”

“No. It was rude.” 

Dean snorted, “I suppose I can’t argue with that.” He put his hands in his pockets as they skated to the edge of the ice. “Like I said last night. All I’m missing is rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. And I really can’t thank you enough for that.” 

“That’s a shame. You would look good in a suit.” Castiel said, surprising himself. He tried to recover by adding, “very professional,” but the damage was done and Dean’s ears were decidedly pink. Castiel waited to see how Dean would react to the flirtation. It wasn’t for show but Dean didn’t seem repulsed by it. Castiel was starting to suspect that Dean might be a little curious, or at the very least flattered by the attention. 

Heavy Christmas smells and tinny music from a radio on the counter filled the air as they came in through the front door. He hadn’t realized how long they had been out on the pond for or how hard they had been playing until his stomach growled painfully. Dean offered to hang their coats up and Cas obliged him, shrugging off the coat. He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and asked Gabriel if there was something for him and Dean to piece at before dinner. 

Gabriel turned to answer but something just above Castiel’s head made him snort. Balthazar who was assisting him (by making cocktails to keep everyone in good spirits) pointed. “Don’t look now Cassie, you’re under the mistletoe.” 

Anna and Hannah looked up from their prep work and cooed. 

Castiel’s face heated. “So what? Who is this for anyway? I’m the only one who brought anyone this year!”

Gabriel snorted. “Yeah, not thinkin Michael and Lucifer’s ex-wives wanted in on any of this.”

“We only hung them up because Dean’s here, obviously Castiel,” Hannah gave a satisfied nod. “Just something to make the rest of us jolly.” 

“You guys are insufferable,” Castiel groaned. 

Dean ducked his head in to see what the commotion was about and seemed completely lost when the Novak sisters burst into giggles. He looked to Gabriel who pointed up. 

Castiel rushed out, “We aren’t really that into public displays of affection.” 

The girls rolled their eyes. 

“Quit being a prude, Cassie,” Anna admonished. 

“Yeah, lighten up.”

“Ah, what the hell, Cas. It’s Christmas,” Dean said.

Castiel turned to look at him surprised and the side of his cheek met one of Dean’s snow chilled fingers. They warmed on contact. Dean offered Castiel a small smile as he stroked over his cheekbone with his thumb. He leaned in and planted a gentle, chaste kiss on Cas’s mouth. 

Castiel’s brain shut down. He brought his hand to Dean’s shoulder and the other to his waist. 

The kiss was broken slowly, “Sure, we can do that.” Dean said, turning to Gabriel. 

Castiel shook his head at the non-sequitur. Dean smothered down the urge to tease him. 

“Two years and he’s still breaking your brain, Cassie?” Balthazar clucked. 

“The good ones are always taken,” Anna complained. 

“I said, ‘you two are sweeter than even _I_ can handle, get out of here. Take these sandwiches,’” Gabriel said again. 

Castiel stepped forward to grab the plate. “Thank you.” 

Gabriel waved them on. “Dad wants to do gifts soon, post up in the living room?” 

Castiel must have looked like he had swallowed a lemon because his brother added, “They aren’t in there. They’re talking about business in the office.” 

Castiel put a sandwich in his mouth and escorted his fake boyfriend to the living room. Once they were seated, Castiel fished his phone out of his breast pocket, pulled up his art website, and handed the phone to Dean who took it gingerly. He flipped through the pieces while they ate, praising Cas on his monster illustrations. He would get especially excited when there was one that he had a hunting story for. Cas could see that he really did have a passion for his work. Dean came to one and frowned “What’s this?” 

Castiel looked over. 

“Angel banishing sigil,” he said, smiling fondly. “I used to have it painted on my bedroom door when I was a teenager. It didn’t work, of course.” He cocked his head to the side, letting it rest on the couch. “They don’t exist, do they?” 

“Who? Angels?” Cas nodded and Dean sighed. “I’ve never seen one. Also, never seen a demon, so I’d consider it a wash. Nothin’ here but us chickens.” Castiel laughed. 

Dean handed him back the phone. “You make a pretty compelling case as far as angels go.” 

Castiel’s heart slammed around like a bee caught under a cake dome. But before he could say anything about it, the family came in for gifts. 

Dean hadn’t had very many happy Christmases or a large family, but he’d take John and Sam’s miserable sniping over whatever shit show this was. Chuck didn’t know what to get anyone, so he bought them all copies of his latest book. Underneath the blanket of bitching and moaning, Castiel explained that Chuck had a habit of naming his characters after his children and killing them off horrifically. 

“Who dies in this one?” Dean asked, looking at the book.

Castiel sighed and looked at the back. “Me, again.” 

“Again?”

Michael took his turn next with the gift-giving and offended nearly everyone. Most especially Cas. It wasn’t enough for the oldest Novak brother that Cas was happy doing art for a living and picking up odd shifts at the diner when he needed a break. He had to drive home his opinion by gifting Cas a briefcase.

“I like the work I have already, Michael.” Castiel said firmly, “Why is that so hard for you to believe?”  
“Castiel, you’re almost forty and you’re working at a _diner,_ for god’s sake.” 

Dean stepped in, hoping to rescue Cas. 

“I like it. Couple days a week he comes home smelling like food?” He turned to Cas adoringly, “I hope you never quit.” 

He addressed Chuck next and said pointedly, “Cas’s work is good. I keep begging him to dress up our training materials.” 

“I can’t. I’d feel uncomfortable charging you.” 

Dean grinned wolfishly, “I’m sure we could negotiate a payment option that suits us both.” 

“I should have bought Castiel a squirt bottle,” Gabriel muttered. 

“Well if you ever do settle on a price for your work, Castiel,” Chuck said seriously. “The money kind not…” He showed he got Dean's meaning. “Let me know and I’ll pay you double to illustrate for me.” 

No one had expected that. Least of all Cas. Gabriel looked about ready to crow at Michael and Lucifer’s sour faces. Dean got an idea and clapped his hands together. 

“Well, I guess now’s as good a time as any,” he suddenly felt as though he were climbing one of those big wooden roller coasters. He could barely contain his excitement, his glee almost childlike. 

“I got something for you, Cas.”

“I-I thought you said we weren’t exchanging gifts this year,” Castiel said, eyes wide. “I didn’t get you anything!” 

Dean shrugged, “I did it on purpose. Didn’t wanna risk not getting to be the one who asks.” 

Dean took Castiel's hands and heard Hannah gasp. “Ask what?”

Dean allowed himself to freefall into Cas’s eyes as he slipped his father's wedding ring onto his finger. “If you’d marry me, Cas.” 

Castiel was absolutely blown away, and some part of Dean loosened to see it. He never thought he’d get the chance to ask anyone to marry him, with his work being as consuming as it had been these last few years. Even if it were to happen one day, he doubted very much that he’d get an expression so instantly gratifying as the one Cas was making for him at that moment. 

His eyes shone with admiration. In a thick voice, he croaked, “I-yes. Yes, I will.” 

While the rest of the Novaks were busy congratulating the couple, Dean planted a kiss at Cas’s temple. 

He said into Cas’s hair, “Give them the bells and whistles to keep them off of you for a while.” 

Castiel nodded. “Thank you, Dean. For everything.” 

“Nah. Don’t sweat it, Cas.” 

The gift-giving event got sweeter after that, he thought. 

Just before dinner, Dean pulled Cas outside. “What do you say we build an igloo, Cas?” 

Castiel chuckled. “We’ll get wet. Besides I remember it taking a full afternoon with a large number of hands. The most we’d be able to manage is a little snow burrow before dinner.” he looked out over the yard. It was dark but the soft yellow glow of the Christmas lights extended a few feet onto the fresh powder. “It’s a nice thought though.” 

“What about a snow angel?” 

“Absolutely not. I’ll be wet _and_ ridiculous.” 

“Sounds like my kind of night, Cas.” Castiel shoved him a little, Dean shoved him back. “Com’mon, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” 

“Alright, but only because you asked me to marry you today. A snow angel is the very least I could do.” 

“Is it?” 

Castiel winked rather than answer. 

They made snow angels together in the soft, loose snow the afternoon had left them. When they stood and looked over their work, they noticed that the angels were holding hands. 

“This was a good Christmas,” Dean said confidently. “I haven’t had too many of those.” 

“It’s not over yet. There’s still dinner. It’s not Christmas until someone’s nearly gone to jail. ” 

Cas was right, dinnertime was a complete riot. Everyone was shouting obscenities and throwing dinner rolls at each other. They were mostly smiling and half drunk. Dean couldn’t tell if they were seriously fighting or not. 

Cas shrugged, sipping his ice water. “It’s always like this.” 

“It's WWE in here,” Dean said, amazed. “I can see why you think you’re not interesting. Not exactly fair, this is a circus.” 

“It’s almost over, at least,” Dean watched as Cas glanced down at his left hand. It had sat next to his plate on top of the table through dinner. The corners of his mouth were tipped down into a frown.

“Hey, Cas?”

Castiel tore his gaze from his hand.“Hm?” 

Dean’s mouth went dry. “I just wanted to ask-”

The front door kicked open and five people stormed in, shotguns raised. 

Dean recognized them immediately. 

“Oh, fuck me.” 

He rose, the Novaks going quiet as Jody Mills, dressed like the local law enforcement barked, “Police, everyone hands in the air.” 

She caught sight of Dean and put her gun down, her whole body sighing in relief.

Sam walked through the door then, dressed to the nines. 

“Sam, what the hell?” 

Sam stopped, taking in the scene. He looked just as surprised as Jody. 

He said slowly, “You didn’t show up to lunch Friday. And you weren’t answering my phone calls. I thought something happened.” 

“So you rounded up the posse? Did you even bother to check your messages? Or check-in with Bobby?” 

“I-” 

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Novak, everybody, my brother Sam.” 

Sam gave an awkward wave. “Novak? Like the writer?” He asked. 

One of the stunned Novaks nodded. 

“I’m a big fan.” 

Dean waved his hand at his brother. “Just- Go wait outside. We’ll be out in a minute.” 

Sam ducked out of there in a hurry.

Castiel excused himself from the table, “I’ll go get our bag.” 

After Dean thanked the Novaks for having him, he hurried outside to find his brother. Sam was listening to his messages with a very deep frown. 

He watched Dean as he approached and sighed, “I’m sorry man. With how Dad-- I panicked. I’m sorry.” 

Castiel skirted out. 

“I’ve already told everyone goodbye. Here are your clothes, Dean.” He said holding them out. Dean cast Sam one more reproachful look as he said “Com’mere, a sec, Cas.” He pulled Cas behind one of the Hunter Corp vans and out of sight from anyone who might be snooping. He wanted to say goodbye properly.

Before Dean could get a word in, Castiel handed him his clothes. “Thank you, Dean. For everything. This is my new favorite Christmas.” 

He picked up his hand and Dean looked away so he wouldn’t have to watch Cas pull the ring off his finger. He only turned back when Cas pressed it into his palm. When he turned to leave, Dean grabbed his arm. He wanted to tell him to keep it. To ask him out properly. Hell, he would have killed to have been able to say “goodbye”. He couldn’t do it over the lump of terror in his throat. 

Cas kissed his cheek whispering “Merry Christmas” and slid away into the night.

**_Valentine’s day--_ **

“Oh god, you’ve got that look again. I thought you were over it.” Meg groaned, flicking her towel at Cas who was taking his break at the counter with the diner patrons. She looked down at his sketchbook and he covered it, embarrassed. “What? Did you start writing ‘Mr. Castiel Winchester?’” 

Castiel took a peek. “Not on this page.” 

She folded her arms across her chest. “Didn’t he program his number in your phone? You freaked out for a full week after you found it. Did you even text him?” 

“What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I know I kidnapped you and ruined your Christmas, you wanna go out for coffee?’ No. It’s better if I just drop it.” Castiel said with no real conviction.

“Fine, don’t call him then.” She said, throwing her hands up. “It’s Valentine’s Day. It's an unattached drifter Christmas! Go to one of those biker bars. Get some hot ass. “

Castiel was a bit frustrated. He knew she meant well, but even two months later, everything still stung. “I’m not interested in anyone else.” He admitted. “That was probably the happiest I had been in a long time and I just--” He searched for the words. “--Want to cherish it.” he laughed humorlessly. “I don’t know. I guess it’s silly to fall in love with someone you’ve kidnapped.”

“To be fair,” said a voice from behind him. Castiel whipped around, sending his art supplies scattering in all directions, almost knocking over the coffee of the person next to him. “You didn’t really kidnap me. I could have left whenever. I’m the CEO of Hunter Corp, Cas. Come on.” 

“Dean? What are you doing here?” 

He was dressed smartly, the perfect image of a CEO and Castiel would be lying to say his thick-framed reading glasses over those gloriously green eyes didn’t make his knees a little weak.

He scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

“It’s Valentine's Day? I was sort of hoping to ask you out.” He gave a wry shrug. ”You left pretty quick on Christmas and I kinda stood there like an idiot.” He chucked. “Ghosts? No problem. Emotions? Deer in the headlights,” he pantomimed a deer getting hit by a car in an awkward, but truly endearing way before he put his hands back in his pockets. 

“Didn’t have your number either. I gave you mine but wasn’t sure if you’d find it.” 

“I did. I wasn’t sure if-” 

“I know. That’s why I decided to show up today.” He looked down his glasses at Cas. “I want payback.” 

Castiel sputtered, “Dean, I’m sorry. You know that I-” 

Dean put up a hand to stop him. “Listen Cas, these last few weeks have been really shitty for me. Sammy says I’ve been ‘snappy’. I heard what you said just now.” Castiel flushed instantly trying his best not to avert his eyes as Dean said, “And, I think we’re on the same page. So I’m just gonna ask,” and with his free hand, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. “Wanna spend a holiday in handcuffs?” 

**Author's Note:**

> I usually forget to mention but if you're over 18 and love Destiel, boy have I got the place for you.  
> https://discord.gg/profoundbond  
> Com'mon in and ask for QQ.


End file.
